


what are we? we're a team (ten times Skye does something nice for her people) (and one time they do something nice for her)

by notcaycepollard



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Awesome Skye | Daisy Johnson, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grant Ward is a Nazi, Grant Ward is not a good person, Skye is perfection, Skye really loves her people, Skye wears her heart on her sleeve, always with the Dollhouse references, happy endings, one-sided Grant Ward/Skye | Daisy Johnson, we build our own family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 18:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4636332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/pseuds/notcaycepollard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing is, okay, Skye's all heart. She just likes doing things for people, okay, people she likes.</p><p>It matters who you are, Coulson says, and Skye knows she's made the right choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what are we? we're a team (ten times Skye does something nice for her people) (and one time they do something nice for her)

_1._

The thing is, okay, Skye's all heart. She just  _likes_ doing things for people, okay, people she likes. In St Agnes, she was the girl the others would come to for help with braiding hair, advice, help with getting a secret lipgloss or eyeliner past the nuns. It's probably at least a little bit an Orphan Kid thing: do nice things for people, make them like you, but she likes people to like her, to trust her. It's _useful_.

When she first got together with Miles, he was always telling her to do less, _care less_ , for other people. "Take care of number one," he'd say, in tones of great wisdom, and in hindsight, yeah, that's a patronizing ass thing to say, even though she still likes the guy a lot. He always liked her doing nice things for _him_ , she thinks wryly, but it's not like he didn't give Skye anything in return. He taught her everything he knows. But not everything  _she_ knows.

So when Mike Peterson comes to her, looking desperate and angry and terrified, yeah, Skye's scared. But he's got Ace with him, and villains don't bring their kids along on a bad guy mission, and this is a guy she watched run into an explosion to save someone's life. So she uses what Miles taught her, and what she's taught herself, to do what he asks, to erase him from the system.

She also hacks SHIELD, tips off Agent Coulson, and Skye thinks Mike probably won't consider that a nice thing, won't like her for it, but she thinks maybe Coulson will. And she also thinks Coulson's a bit more trustworthy than she'd give most scary guys in dark suits credit for. She thinks maybe he'll be able to offer Mike more than just running, the better life Mike wants for him and Ace. She hopes maybe in time Mike will understand that, will understand the nice thing she's trying to do for him here.

 _It matters who you are_ , Coulson says, and Skye knows she's made the right choice.

 

 _2._  

Skye's not always so good at using her words with people. Sometimes saying what she feels makes people angry, or gives them something they can use against her, and she's not historically cool with letting people have something they can use (although she wears her heart on her sleeve, always has, so it's kind of a losing battle). And she's not sure she can really say what she means, to Coulson, but she tries.

 _You value me_ , she tells him, lets him know she'll back any decision he makes, and she thinks that maybe he gets it, gets that she's joining the team because of the way he's leading it, because of the way he looks at her. It makes her feel warm and whole and wanted, in a way she hasn't felt for a long, long time.

She gives him a nickname, because nicknames are nice, she thinks. Skye's never had a nickname (not one that she liked, anyway, because "poop-face Poots" is not exactly the greatest) but she wishes she had. She had a foster sister once named Georgia, and the way her nicknames rolled off her mom's tongue - Gia, lil peach, sweet peach pie - made Skye's heart feel all full and empty at the same time.

Skye doesn't know what she'd nickname herself. She guesses  _Skye's_ a nickname, anyway, and she likes the way Coulson says it, like it means something.

"AC's just way cooler," she tells him, uses her words again about the way he gives second chances, and she thinks she's probably wearing her heart on her sleeve again, but it's true. She likes it here. She hopes maybe he'll give her a second chance too, when he finds out what she's really doing (because she knows, she knows he'll find out, and it makes her feel colder, when she remembers).

 

_3._

The team doesn't trust her anymore, and Skye  _knows_ why, knows their anger is fair, but it still hurts. She likes these people, wants them to like her, wants them to  _welcome_ her. In the lab, finally, it feels like Fitzsimmons are warming back up to her, letting her in on their jokes, and Skye doesn't want to hope but she  _really hopes_. 

And then Jemma's sick, Jemma's  _dying_ , and it's worse than being sent back from any foster family, worse than Miles' betrayal, worse than the way Coulson had looked at her and told her she was lying. And this isn't something Skye can fix, not with words or with hacking skills. She can't do anything. It burns cold in her chest and she hates it. _  
_

When Jemma gets fished out of the ocean, Skye feels so relieved it almost hurts worse. She feels like finally she understands why the other kids told her to stop trying to love people, but she also knows she can't. She's going to keep building a family out of these people, she knows, if only they'll let her.

She grabs Jemma, pulls her into a hug so tight that Jemma makes a cute little wheezing noise, and then when she's safely tucked into her bunk, Skye makes her a cup of tea just the way Jemma likes it. Earl Grey, brewed for two minutes with freshly boiled water, a splash of milk, half a teaspoon of sugar. Jemma makes a pleased noise when she sips it, beams at Skye.

"I'm glad Coulson let you stay," she says earnestly, "even if you did kind of betray us. You're part of the team. You're my _friend_. And you make really good tea." And Skye knows she'll never be Jemma's best friend, that Fitz has that spot forever, but being Jemma's friend, it's pretty great.

 

_4._

When Coulson's taken, Skye feels like her heart's going to seize right up in her chest. They have to get him back,  _have_ to, and she thinks she knows how, thinks she can track them down.

Agent Hand kicks her off the plane, with May's agreement, and it's a kick in the chest, a reminder she's not really part of the team. "No," May agrees, Skye won't be any use on the plane, and it hurts, it hurts like hell. She didn't know for sure whether May likes her but she thought May at least thought she was  _useful_. 

Even so, when she sees the jacket in the store window, she thinks being like May will be useful, for this mission (and it's still a mission, whatever Agent Hand might think). She can channel it, direct her anger, because all that matters is  _getting Coulson back_. She puts on the sunglasses, zips up the jacket, pulls herself together, and she's not going to lie: being Agent Melinda May of SHIELD feels good. She'd like to be Agent Skye of SHIELD. She'd like it a whole lot. (It won't happen unless they get Coulson back, she reminds herself, lets the cold terror of that thought drive her harder).

When she finds him, she puts all her fury into punching Raina right in the face, goes to Coulson like she's drawn to him, and May's right there pulling the plug on the machine, because it turns out Skye has really underestimated her. It turns out Agent Melinda May of SHIELD is really a person Skye could try and be.

"Nice jacket," May tells her, and Skye just smiles, lets the moment go, but she gets the jacket dry-cleaned, hangs it up, carefully sneaks it into May's bunk. Skye remembers what it's like, to have clothes bought for her as a gift just because she likes them. The clothes at St Agnes were always functional, a little threadbare, but her foster mom bought her a pretty red dress, when she was eight, and she loved it more than she thought she should. The Mary-Sue who wore that red polkadot dress was a little different than the usual Mary-Sue. It made her feel like she could be the girl her foster parents wanted. She knows what a piece of clothing can do.

May never says anything, but she wears the jacket, their next mission, and Skye thinks she looks good. 

 

_5._

Everything feels like it's moving too fast. Skye was  _shot_ and then Coulson's telling her they've survived thanks to a mystery alien serum and then they find the Clairvoyant (the fake Clairvoyant, it turns out) and now Hydra's attacking. Skye thinks that's maybe why she kisses Ward. Everything's too fast and too much, and he's opening up to her, suddenly sharing _feelings_ , and hell, she thinks they might die. She thinks that's worth a kiss. She wants to let Ward open himself to her, wants to be the girl that helps him, and he's making it feel like that could happen, finally. She could do a nice thing for him, could  _be_ a nice thing for him, and she maybe wants that, she thinks. He deserves something nice. _They_ deserve something nice. So she kisses him, and it feels okay. It feels nice.

When she finds out he's Hydra, when she finds Eric's body, the bile that rises in her throat is bitter and corrosive. She feels so  _stupid_. He's played her, played her horribly well, preyed on the way she cares, the way she always wants to help.  _You wear your heart on your sleeve, and your face_ , she remembers Coulson saying, and if Coulson can see it, then of course Ward can see it. It must have been so  _easy_ for him.

She retches into the sink, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She let him kiss her. She let him  _touch_ her. And she's going to have to keep doing it, going to have to keep playing his game. It makes her hyperventilate, grey flickering at the edges of her vision. She's alone in the base with him. She needs a plan.

When she kisses him again, it takes everything in her to keep her revulsion down, to keep playing along. "I want this," she tells him, and thinks,  _I will never be a soft bed for you to lie down on again. I will never_   _be a nice thing for you to play at feeling human._ Her face doesn't flicker. For the first time, she's not wearing her heart on her sleeve, or her face. She feels like she's buried her heart so deep she can't find it. It's the only way to survive.

Not letting him die feels like a weakness, feels like failure, and she swears, it's the last nice thing she'll ever do for Grant Ward.

 

_6._

Fitz is  _alive_ , but that doesn't mean he's okay, and Skye doesn't feel like she can breathe. He's been in a coma for nine days, and Jemma won't leave his side, looks like she's barely holding it together. Skye brings her a cup of tea, and Jemma takes it, says thank you automatically, but it goes cold in her hands. Skye takes away the mug, grabs Jemma's hand, and it's clammy with cold sweat, the nails bitten down to the quick. Jemma's a bad liar and she gets nervous easily but she's not this person. She's  _Fitzsimmons_. The possibility that she'll be ~~Fitz~~ simmons doesn't bear thinking about. 

They sit in silence, the only noise the ventilator that's keeping Fitz breathing. "I should have let Ward die," Skye says eventually, because she's thought about it constantly. "I should have... if I hadn't  _saved him_ he wouldn't have been able to do this to you."

"No!" Jemma replies. "You're a  _good person_ , Skye, this is Ward's fault and nobody else's. He  _chose_ to do this. He chose to follow Garrett. He looked us right in the face and chose to kill us." Skye grits her jaw, looks at Fitz, holds back her tears.

"You need to get some sleep," she tells Jemma, but she's not listening (and Skye wouldn't, either, if it was Coulson. She gets it).

When Fitz wakes up, finally, on the tenth day, he can't speak, struggles for words, looks terrified and confused at Jemma's face. They sedate him, eventually, and Jemma looks even less like she's coping.

"He needs to rest," she says firmly to Skye. "He needs to- it's the hypoxia, it's, he'll have to re-learn how to speak, the oxygen deprivation has- he's  _brain damaged_ , Skye, his brain is, his brain is _damaged._ " She wells up in tears, sobs silently for a second, and then says, quiet and serious, "I'll kill him. My best friend is lying in a hospital bed and we have Ward downstairs in a cellalive and _well_ , and I swear, if I ever see him face to face again, I will _kill_ _him_."

"I'll hand you the gun," Skye agrees, feels the guilt burn in the pit of her stomach, because she could have, she should have, she didn't.

She wants to do something, to help Fitz's recovery, and when he's fighting with the electronic speech rehabilitation program, she thinks that  _this_ , she can do. She's never done much animation before, but hey, she's a quick study, and she's got _interns_ now. It only takes a week (yeah, a week of eighteen-hour days, but it's not like she's sleeping, anyway).

When she brings it into the infirmary, she can tell it's one of Fitz's bad days just from how stiff and careful and reserved Jemma is. She holds her breath, hopes this will work.

"Hey, Fitz," she says gently, "I made you something." She lays the tablet down, turns on the program, and a fluffy little monkey flickers into holographic 3D.

"Oh!" he says, looking interested in  _something_ for the first time in days, and that, at least, would be enough for Skye right now. "It's a- it's a- a-"

"A monkey, Fitz," Jemma prompts, and he glares at her.

"Yes  _thank you_ , Simmons, a _capuchin_ ," he replies.

"It's designed to interface with the speech rehabilitation," Skye explains. "I thought it might be more-  _fun_ than the basic program. Having, y'know, a monkey tutor." Fitz doesn't say anything, just pokes cautiously at the holographic monkey, and it scampers down the length of the bed. He cracks the first smile Skye's seen since he woke up, and she begins to hope that he might be okay, eventually.

When Jemma leaves, Skye understands why.

 

_7._

Skye hasn't really figured out Hunter, but when she's packing up Hartley's things and he comes in, she lets him talk, listens to his story about Izzy, asks deliberately leading questions so he can open up a bit more. He's a good man, she thinks, and she wants to let herself like him. "Don't get attached," he tells her, wry and knowing, and she knows too it's way too late for that, for the both of them. They're the kind of people who wear their hearts out in the open.

When he shoots her and May, she forgives him, free and easy, because she gets why he did it, and she can't help it; he's a bit of a jerk, but she likes him. He did the wrong thing for the right reasons, and she likes that he cares. He puts a team together like family, and she knows what that means. It's easy to be nice, just this once.

 

_8._

Skye likes Trip. Like, _really_ likes him. He's just one of the nicest people she's ever met, and she loves how much he makes people smile. And she's seen the way he looks at Jemma. It's _adorable._ So when her father  _uses him_ as a distraction, she's pretty mad. 

"That man was out of his damn mi- uh, hey Skye," Trip says, visibly discomforted, and she kind of can't believe it, that he's such a good person he's worrying about upsetting  _her_ right now. She brushes it off, goes to the briefing with them, watches them toss off cute little salutes to each other as they separate, and when they're on the plane together after extracting Raina, she makes sure to go talk to him, because this is important and it feels like they're going into something big.

"Dude," she says, no preamble. "You know Jemma  _likes_ you, right?"

"What? Aw, Skye, come on now," Trip replies, looking awkward. 

"No, I'm serious. You should talk to her! Tell her how you feel. She's had a crush on you since, like, the Hub. Ask her out, I bet she'll say yes." Trip ducks his head, bashful and lost for words for the first time in, like, ever, but Skye thinks he'll act on it. She's glad. Trip and Jemma deserve to be happy. 

Later, in the quarantine room, she wishes she'd said something earlier, done something earlier, never gone down into those tunnels, because Trip's  _gone_ and it's her  _fault_. She just wanted to do something nice for him. She wonders whether he even got a chance to talk to Simmons.

 

_9._

Skye remembers when Bobbi brought her a quarantine survival bag, and it's not that she forgives Bobbi for working against Coulson, but being kidnapped and tortured by Ward, taking a bullet for Hunter, well, Bobbi's earned her respect ten times over. So she waits until Jemma finally allows Bobbi out of bed to take a shower, and then quickly changes her sheets, swaps out the hospital-smelling blankets for soft Egyptian cotton sheets, a colourful duvet that she's taken from Bobbi's bunk. Being stuck in bed _sucks_ , Skye remembers, and hopefully this will make it suck a little less.

She leaves a can of cactus cooler and a stack of magazines on the rolling cart beside the bed, a new pair of fluffy Star Wars-print flannel pajamas folded next to the pillow. The next time she comes in to visit, Bobbi's wearing the pajamas, and when she sees Skye come in she smiles wide and pleased.

"Hey, Skye," she says. "You didn't have to. But I really appreciate it."

"I just wanted you to have something nice, I guess," Skye replies. "I'm really sorry about Ward."

"Yeah, well, what can you do," Bobbi shrugs. "Risks of the job, I guess. I just wish I'd been able to take him down, that sick son of a bitch."

"Me too," Skye agrees, feeling the burn of guilt all over again, and Bobbi lets her nonchalant mask slide for a moment.

"It's not on you, okay?" she sighs, looks down at her hands (and it's a painful sight, her fingertips bandaged, but Skye knows what's underneath). "I should have been stronger. I almost had him."

"You held up under  _torture_ ," Skye says, in disbelief. "You took a  _bullet_ for Hunter, and you stabbed Ward in the neck with needles he used to _torture you_ , and you looked right in his eyes and told him to go to hell. If anyone's a rockstar, Bobbi, it's you." Bobbi smiles, a bit wobbly, and brushes tears off her cheeks.

 

_10._

Skye doesn't really think Coulson will agree to using the TAHITI program on her father, but he surprises her, gives her a look that says he understands more than he's letting on. She sets Cal up with a new identity, a vet, because he'd been a doctor for a reason, and she thinks he might like working with animals. It's easy, creating a new life for him. It's harder saying goodbye.

Coulson takes her to visit, and that's surprising too, especially when he hands her the keys to Lola. It's a beautiful afternoon when they go out for a drive, and Skye thinks of ice cream cones, of sitting in a park watching kids play. She thinks Coulson might say yes, if she asked for this too. It's one of those kinds of days. 

Cal - Dr Winslow - is happy, just as she'd hoped he would be. He grins easily at her, and although the lack of recognition stings, it feels good to see him contented, not tormented by his past or by the monster he became to protect them all. He asks her name, and "Daisy," she tells him, on a whim. It feels like one last gift, and she remembers the bouquet of flowers he'd given her, so pleased and happy and proud. "It's Daisy."

 _It matters who you are_ , she thinks. She knows who she is, now. She knows whose daughter she is. She knows which team she's on.

 

 

_(and one more)_

"Sk- Daisy, come on," Jemma says, impatient, and she laughs, tucks her shorter hair behind her ears. 

"I'm coming, I'm coming, hold your horses," she replies. "Are we nearly there? Wherever it is we're going?"

"We're nearly there," Coulson confirms, and then Jemma's tying a blindfold around Daisy's eyes. "Sorry about this. The team wants it to be a proper surprise."

"The team, huh," Daisy says, in tones of great skepticism. But someone grabs her hand (and she thinks it's Jemma, probably) and someone else presses their palm to her shoulder (and she  _knows_ that's Coulson) and they lead her off the plane, tell her when to step down. She can feel a breeze cool on her face, and sunshine, and birds are singing. It sounds very peaceful. "Is the  _whole team_ watching me stumble around like a dork right now?" she asks, but she's smiling through it, because this feels like a nice surprise.

"They are," Coulson confirms, and Daisy smiles wider. Now that she's listening for it, she can hear Bobbi's wheelchair (Simmons hopes her knee will heal enough for walking eventually, but it's still touch and go, and regular surgery), and Hunter bickering _with the wheelchair_ as he navigates it over rough ground, and Mack and Fitz and May laughing. It's an even better sound than the birds and the wind and the sunshine.

They lead her a few more steps, and she can tell they're standing in the shadow of a building. Coulson squeezes her shoulder, lets her go, and she fumbles to pull the blindfold off her eyes.

"You'll need to swipe your lanyard," he tells her, "you're the only one with access, Agent Johnson." Daisy swipes, confused, at the keypad next to the big set of blast doors, and they swing open into a wide corridor, and then they're in a big room with a centralized briefing table, and a holo display, and really great-looking couches. It's all bathed in sunshine, pouring in through ceiling skylights. It's  _beautiful_. 

"What _is_ this place?" Daisy asks, although she thinks she knows. It's Coulson who answers.

"It's called Safehaven. It's designed to be your home away from home. For newly powered people."

"For your secret warriors," May adds. "To keep them safe. To keep  _you_ safe." Daisy blinks.

"You  _guys_!" she says, and it's all she can say. Jemma beams. 

"Come take a look around," she says. "There's a state of the art medical facility, and I consulted with Lincoln to set it up, he says it has everything he could need, as your resident doctor."

"Yes, and there's a lab we've designed to feel less like a  _lab_ lab, because I know you don't like feeling like a lab rat," Fitz pipes up. "Fewer, ah, quarantine rooms. More couches. No monkey, but I did bring your program with me, if you'd like to tinker with him."

"There's beer in the fridge," Daisy says. " _How_ is there already beer in the fridge?"

"Yeah, that was me, love," Hunter replies. "Team needs supplies, don't they?"

"Fitz and I set up a sparring space downstairs," May tells her. "He sounds pretty confident he's come up with a way to contain powers to that room, some kind of major vibranium alloy, so you can train your new recruits." _  
_

"Is this an  _office_?" Daisy asks, and she feels overwhelmed already, but it takes her breath away, when she opens the door. The office is almost identical to Coulson's, right down to the big windows, but the view looks out over a lake, all sparkling water and sky. It's painfully gorgeous.

"It's your office," Coulson tells her. "You're the Director, here. You need a space of your own, right?"

"With a Captain America coffee mug?" she says, and Coulson actually blushes a little.

When they reach the garage, there's another surprise.

"You guys," Daisy says again. "You  _guys_. Is that my _van_?"

"It's your new and improved van," Mack says, looking proud. "Fitz and I got under the hood a bit. Hope that's alright, Tremors."

"It's a mobile response unit," Fitz adds. "For when you need to go out in the field. We refitted the back so it's basically a mini med-unit and command center and also there are snacks. In case, you know, you get peckish."

"This is too much," Daisy says, and she knows she's crying, but everyone looks really pleased and also awkward about it, so she doesn't mind. "This is  _too much_."

"There's one more thing," Coulson says in a low voice, while they're all drinking beers in _her new secret base_ , because her team is the greatest. "In the garden. I thought you might want to go by yourself, though."

"Take me?" she asks, and he shrugs, sets down his beer. May catches his eye, smiles just a little, and Daisy knows she's in on it too, this one last surprise. He leads her out into the garden, overlooking the lake, and she takes a moment to catch her breath, look around.

"There's a perimeter alarm and laser fence, like the Retreat," Coulson says, "but it's biometrically coded. You'll always be able to get in,  _or_ get out." Daisy nods, feeling relieved, because being trapped at the Retreat is not something she's super keen to repeat. "Anyway," he says, touches her gently on the shoulder, turns her slightly to her left, and she takes a deep breath, looks at him in something like confusion.

"Is it-" she asks, because surely it's not.

"I asked permission personally," he explains. "From the Afterlife elders. Explained why I wanted it. They were happy to let us move it, in the end. I thought you might want something to remind you of it, here." Daisy's crying again, because Coulson brought a little bit of Afterlifehere, set it up in a garden for her, because he thought it might make her happy. She takes him by the hand, leads him up to the pagoda. There are wind chimes ringing softly above their heads.

"It's where I met my mom," she breathes. "Where she taught me to control my powers. Even with everything that happened after-  _thank you_ , Coulson." He smiles a little awkwardly, brushes her tears away. "You did  _all this_ ," she says, feeling overwhelmed.

"The team did all this," he says, like it's nothing.

"No, Director, I  _know_ you, you  _did this_. As if you don't have enough on your plate already."

"Sk- Agent Johnson, it was nothing, really," Coulson says, and she huffs out a laugh, grabs him in an impulsive hug.

"You can call me Skye, if you want," she whispers into the curve of his shoulder.

"No, it's your name, Daisy, I respect the choices you're making," he tells her, and she pulls back a little, smiles wide.

"Skye was a name I chose for myself. An identity I chose for myself. But you can use it, as a nickname, if you want. I've never had a nickname before. It'd be nice. 'Agent Johnson' is so  _formal._ "

"When we're off the clock," he says, very quiet.

"Yeah," she agrees. "When we're off the clock. Just you and me. AC."

"Well," he tells her, "I guess if that's how it is, then you can call me Phil."

" _Phil_ ," she says, delighted, and he looks down at her, smiles in a way that makes her heart beat harder.  _Seventy five,_ she thinks,  _at least_.  _Probably closer to eighty._

"Skye," he sighs, and the way he says her name, soft and intimate and joyous, makes her lean up to kiss him. It doesn't feel okay, or nice. It feels good, and right, and whole. It feels like she's wearing her whole heart on her face, right there for him to find, and she knows he'll only do good with it. " _Skye_ ," he breathes again, against her lips, and it feels like home.


End file.
